


This Is A Love Song In My Own Way

by TheSpiderThatKnowsThePlan



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cookies, Crushes, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpiderThatKnowsThePlan/pseuds/TheSpiderThatKnowsThePlan
Summary: Another work from my old account.A combination of two from OTPPROMPTS.TUMBLR:1. Imagine your OTP in a café AU. Person B is the cashier who has a crush on Person A, a regular customer. Bonus: B always gives A little treats like half-off donuts or cookies.2. Imagine person A wearing a scarf, and person B kissing them on the cheek causing them to get flustered and turn bright red, and cover their face with their scarf.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	This Is A Love Song In My Own Way

“Pete,” Gabe whispered conspiratorially, “don’t look now, but your boyfriend’s here.”

After a deep breath and a count to three, Pete turned from the espresso machine slowly, casually, and there he was. He tried not to show his excitement too much, but he knew his skin was heating up at the sight of his favorite customer, Patrick.

He was short and slim, with pale skin and fine russet hair. He wore thick-rimmed glasses and a fedora perched on his head. It was winter, and he was all bundled up in a grey wool coat and a beige Burberry scarf. He stood in line, looking at his phone, one glove off, occasionally grinning at things he saw. Pete’s heart flipped at seeing his smile, and the way it lit up his blue eyes. Pete had often wondered who Patrick was, what he did, where he was from, what kinds of inappropriate noises he made…

 _Stop that!_ his mind chided. _There is no room in your pants for those thoughts._

Pete took another great breath and approached the counter opposite where Patrick stood. “Good morning, Patrick!” he chirruped. “Usual black Kona?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said, rubbing his eyes. “Mind throwing an espresso shot in there for me? I’m kinda lagging today.” His voice was gravelly and groggy, and he gave a little yawn. Pete was positive this was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to see Patrick just waking up, all sleepy and cute like this, every single blessed day.

A nudge from Gabe as he passed snapped Pete out of his reverie. “Sure, no problem, ‘Trick,” Pete said dreamily, trying the nickname on for size. Patrick didn’t protest, so Pete counted that as a win. He made the coffee, added espresso, and grabbed a snickerdoodle cookie. “Here, the cookie is my treat,” he said softly as he handed everything over with a wink. “You could probably use the sugar rush.”

“Uh, thanks,” Patrick said, seeming a bit befuddled as he blushed a little. “Snickerdoodles are my favorite.”

Pete’s grin threatened to split his entire face in half. “Anytime, ‘Trick.”

Patrick scratched his temple as his blush deepened. “Uh, I’ll uh, I’ll see you tomorrow. And thanks, again, really. It’s super nice of you.” He held up the bag a little as he said this, then turned with his coffee and treat and went out into the cold.

As soon as Patrick was gone, Pete sagged into his elbows on the counter, sighing dreamily. His eyes were glassy as he looked on after Patrick while he walked the length of the sidewalk in front of the shop windows.

Gabe elbowed him again and said, “Dude, come on, people are waiting.” Pete straightened up and invited the next customer up to be helped.

It was a young woman with ivory skin and bright blue and orange hair poking out from under a wool cap. She smiled at Pete while he made her caramel latte and said, “You should go for it.”

Pete blinked at her. “Huh?”

“That guy. You obviously like him. You should ask him out.” She grinned as she darted her eyes momentarily in the direction where Patrick had gone.

“Oh, I don't know. Isn't that a little weird? I mean, I don't even know him, except from here. I mean, is that creepy?”

She shook her head. “Coffee shops are the new singles bars. Didn't you know that?”

“Since when do you care about being creepy? That's, like, your M.O., dawg!” Gabe crowed, and Pete punched his arm with a laugh.

“Can it, Saporta,” Pete snipped. “Maybe one day I'll get up the courage. I mean, I think I've dropped plenty of hints, but he doesn't seem to get it yet. I may just have to move to anvils.”

******

The next morning, Pete got the flutters when he saw Patrick coming down the sidewalk in front of the shop windows, hands stuffed in his pockets. When he got inside and stomped the snow off his boots, he removed his gloves and then smirked in irritation as his glasses immediately fogged up. He took them off and fished a cloth out of his pocket to clean them, and Pete nearly swooned at the flush of pink in his cheeks from the cold, and the way he wore annoyance so completely adorably.

By the time he got to the counter, Pete had his black Kona ready. “You want espresso today, 'Trick?” he asked with a wide smile.

Patrick shook his head. “Nah, not today, but thanks.” He gave a lopsided smile, and Pete was sure he was going to faint.

Pete handed the coffee over and another snickerdoodle. “I hope your day is great,” he blurted out, then immediately facepalmed. “Sorry, that was so dorky.”

“No, it's fine. And thanks. I, uh, I kinda needed that. I'll see you tomorrow, Pete.” He gave a little wave as he turned to head back outside.

 _My name sounds so much better when he says it with that honey sweet voice,_ Pete thought. _Oh, man, I got it bad._

******

When Patrick came down the walk the following morning, Pete squared his shoulders and slipped a little note in with his cookie. Today's the day, Pete thought. No more fucking around. Now, granted, a love note was the least direct way to go, since Patrick likely wouldn't find it until he was away from Pete, and then there wouldn't have to be the polite-yet-awkward rejection spiel about how _you seem like a nice guy but [I'm straight/I'm with someone/I don't date loser stalker baristos]_. If he didn't like it, he could either find a new coffee shop _(Please God NO)_ or simply pretend it never happened. And Pete would have his answer in the most non-confrontational fashion.

_Wow, I really am putting way too much thought into this. Also, I'm a fucking coward._

For the life of him, Pete couldn't have said why he put a terrible kindergarten drawing of a kitty-cat face next to his name on the note, but whatever. It could be construed as cutesy.

Pete's heart leapt into his throat as Patrick made his way in, _**with a fucking guitar strapped to his back**._

 _No way,_ Pete thought. _No way is this perfect adorable fluffy little fucking baby lamby a musician, too. Am I really that lucky?_

“Morning, 'Trick,” Pete said, trying to sound casual. “Uh, so are you in a band?”

Patrick gave a nervous little chuckle. “No, not right now. I, uh, I busk sometimes, and I play at Elbo Room a couple nights a month. You should come down. I have a show tonight.” There was a very pregnant pause while Pete processed what Patrick was saying before he finally nodded, his mouth hanging open. He handed Patrick his black Kona, no espresso, and the snickerdoodle. “Are you trying to fatten me up?” Patrick asked with a playful smirk.

Pete shook his head. “No, just trying to sweeten your day.”

“That one was better,” Patrick said as he handed his money to Pete, never breaking eye contact. “I gotta go, but maybe I'll see you tonight?” Pete nodded again as Patrick turned to leave.

Patrick set his purchases down on a table so he could tighten his scarf and put his gloves back on, then headed out the door without them.

“Wait!” Pete shouted, ignoring the line to grab the coffee and cookie and go after him. He got outside and damn, it was freezing, but this was _important_. “Wait, Patrick!” He stopped and turned around, his brow furrowing. Pete held out the coffee and bagged cookie. “You forgot your stuff.”

He walked back toward Pete, that playful smirk on his face, and Pete could swear Patrick purposely brushed their fingers together as he took the items from him. “Thanks. I'll see ya, Pete.”

And with that, he turned and walked off into the winter morning with Pete staring longingly after him.

When he went back inside, there were three or four customers in line smiling knowingly at him.

Gabe just rolled his eyes and went back to making a chai for the girl in front of him.

******

That night, Pete stood in front of the mirror trying to choose an outfit. His hands were definitely not shaking.

He settled on his tightest black skinny jeans, a Ride The Lightning t-shirt, and purple Converse hi-tops, and decided to pair it with a purple striped hoodie. His flat-ironed hair hung over his kohl-rimmed eyes. Maybe the Converse weren't the best choice for winter, but whatever. He wasn't planning on standing in the snow very much, or anything.

He decided he looked nice enough, but not overdressed. After a firm nod at himself, he left for Elbo Room.

The place was already filling up when he got there, but he managed to find a seat at the bar. He ordered a beer and drummed his fingers nervously on the bar while he waited.

When Patrick came onstage (without his glasses), the place erupted in applause. _Wow, is this kid really that good?_ Pete was getting excited now.

Then, Patrick started to play and sing. And man, could he sing . Pete felt his eyes go like saucers and his mouth fall open (again). His skinny jeans were suddenly incredibly uncomfortable. _Oh man, this guy is so far out of my league. He's amazing!_

There was a tall, slender guy with dark, wavy hair close to the stage. When Patrick looked in that direction, the man raised a pale, long, elegant hand and smiled. Patrick's face lit up and he gave a little flick of his chin at the man.

Pete's heart sank. _Of course he has a boyfriend. And a tall, gorgeous one, at that,_ he thought. _Oh God, I should never have come, especially now that he knows about my stupid crush on him. He was just being nice, and I had to go and be all... **me** , or whatever._ He downed his beer and waited until the next song break before darting for the door.

******

The next morning at the shop, Pete was not his usual sunny self. Gabe actually pulled Pete aside.

“Dude, what's the matter with you? You're not making awful jokes or smiling... you didn't even put on eyeliner! Are you OK?”

Pete looked at his feet. “I'm pretty sure Patrick has a boyfriend. I'm such an idiot. I should have guessed he would.”

A voice over his shoulder said, “Uh, Bill's not my boyfriend. Is that why you left in such a hurry?”

They both turned toward the sound and Pete's heart leapt into his throat as he turned and saw Patrick standing there with a kindly smile on his face. He looked absolutely gorgeous. A pink flush colored his cheeks and the tips of his ears from the cold, and his Burberry scarf hung a little loosely around his neck. Instead of a fedora, he was wearing a grey wool beanie. His reddish fringe swooped out from under it and over his forehead.

Pete tried to get his mouth to work, and there were a few ineffectual jawing movements before he said, “Uh, yeah, kinda. I mean... uh... well...”

“I couldn't play the grand finale I had planned for you,” he said, looking a little mock-sad, before backing up and swinging his guitar around to the front. He strummed a few chords, then began to play. It was simple, kinda twangy.

_“Dear Pete_   
_I like your snickerdoodle cookies_   
_But your letter was the real treat_   
_Dear Pete_   
_I like your coffee_   
_But it's you that makes my heart skip a beat_   
_Dear Pete_   
_I hate Mondays_   
_But your smile makes my day complete_   
_Dear Pete_   
_I don't need sugar in my coffee_   
_'Cause you make me feel so sweet_   
_Dear Pete_   
_I like the kitty cat you drew_   
_'Cause it's cute just like you_   
_And can we go have dinner tooooonight,_   
_or tomorrow, or whatever works for you_   
_It's my treat_   
_Dear Pete."_

The entire cafe burst into clapping and whooping as Patrick swung his guitar behind his back. Pete came from behind the counter (with Gabe prodding him by the back), took the ends of Patrick's classy Burberry scarf, and pulled him in for a kiss on the cheek. Patrick looked around at the captive audience and turned crimson. He pulled the ends of his scarf back from Pete's grasp and pulled them over his face.

“I'm such a dork,” he said, still muffled behind his scarf.

Pete took his hands down and said, “So what? You're a dork who has a dinner date tomorrow night.” He kissed Patrick on the lips then and said, “I just have to finish my shift and we'll talk, OK?”

Gabe scoffed and said, “Go on, off with you! Just promise you'll give him back to me in one piece, Patrick!”

Pete grabbed his coat and rejoined Patrick, who had put his guitar away again. He laughed and put an arm around Pete's waist. “Don't worry, I will. I'll need my coffee, for sure.”

The patrons all started clapping again as the two walked out with an arm around each other, giggling.

“I'm glad you don't have a boyfriend,” Pete murmured as soon as they were outside.

Patrick bumped his shoulder and said, “Well, not yet.”


End file.
